


A Little Stronger

by futureboy (PokeRowan)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 15:05:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11210565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PokeRowan/pseuds/futureboy
Summary: Soulmate!AU oneshot. Ryan's getting a little worried about how much he's let his soulmate tattoo decide for him, seeing as his soulmate hasn't actually turned up yet.[Prompted on tumblr]





	A Little Stronger

**Author's Note:**

> [RPF disclaimer: Written according to guidelines set by RT employees (to the best of my knowledge). This is a fictional series of events using characters inspired by real people.]
> 
> "And if you're still wanting Jeremwood prompts I would love any kind of soulmate AU. -ireythegnome"

Written in the crook of his elbow, in delicate, sweeping capitals, is the phrase: _“Diet Coke, huh? Can I get you anything a little stronger?”_

Ryan doesn’t drink, but he wonders if he’ll share a round with his soulmate one day.

At the rate he’s going, alcohol should really be a more inviting prospect by the week; he’s thirty-seven, he’s got a long string of failed, non-soulmate relationships, and the idea that he might never find who he’s looking for is a terrifying one.

It appeared when he was ten or eleven or so, like most people’s did. The sentence wound around the inside of his joint, and the next day he’d asked his dad to put soda in his lunch, ‘like the tattoo had on’. It’s really his soulmate’s fault at all that he doesn’t drink, come to think of it, because now there wasn’t a drink he could possibly enjoy more.

It could be worse. He definitely lucked out with Rooster Teeth, because he was perpetually surrounded by alcohol. And some of his co-workers had way more intense tattoo situations. Geoff inked over his years ago, and refuses to tell anyone what it says. Joel doesn’t have one at all (and he doesn’t seem to notice whatsoever, so everything’s worked out great for him). Miles literally has: _“Excuse me, are you Miles Luna?”_ written on his calf in fancy script, which means any fan at any convention could be the one.

Ryan feels like his has a bit of character about it.

He doesn’t often go out with everyone – he’s serious when he says he doesn’t enjoy drinking – but sometimes, the temptation gets to him and they drag him along to every bar. If anything, it must be some sort of good deed to be designated driver.

And that’s what’s happened tonight – when Barbara and Aaron lead a group onto the dance floor in this enormous bar, and Andy and Michael take a piss break, Ryan enjoys the momentary lull in social obligation. His shoes are a little sticky from the floor, so he swings them from his perch on the barstool their table is kitted out with, instead.

Swinging his feet and sipping soda. What a state of affairs.

One of the servers breezes over to remove the empties and wipe down the spillages. Ryan accidentally catches his eye and blushes, because, oh my word, he has gorgeous eyes and lovely hands and he’s _far_ too upbeat for someone working the joint at eleven twenty PM.

“Diet Coke, huh?” he asks sympathetically.

Ryan nods, and tips the can at him in form of greeting.

“Can I get you anything a little stronger?”

He’s playing it off as a little flirty, looking up through short eyelashes and flashing a radiant, dangerous smile, and holy shit, Ryan forgets how to speak. Not even in a surprised, shocked, tongue-tied manner; his brain totally short-circuits, he can _feel_ it frying in his skull, and all that comes out of his mouth is a garbled mess that he might be able to spell with a bad Scrabble hand.

The server frowns at him, amused. “Have you… Have you had a little too much already, pal? Is that why you’re on the soda?”

Ryan pulls up the sleeve on his hoodie as a reply, because speech isn’t his friend right now.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” says the server abruptly, those gorgeous eyes scanning the script, and he takes in a breath, and holds onto the edge of the table.

He starts wheezing with laughter. Ryan’s never been more confused in his whole damn life.

“You don’t--” the man says, “you don’t _understand._ ”

He pulls up the sleeve to his polo shirt, and there, on his shoulder, is a broad, black smear. It looks like someone took an ink brush to his skin.

“I went to _so_ many people about it! No-one knew what it meant!” the server cackles.

Oh, wow, he could easily fall in love with a laugh like that. It’s contagious.

Andy and Michael regroup with Lindsay at the table to find Ryan and the server talking animatedly, which is something he can safely assume they weren’t expecting, but fuck it. It’s a good evening for surprises.

“Ryan,” says Michael patiently. “What the fuck is this?”

He can’t help but laugh some more. It’s the most relieved he’s ever felt, and briefly, he wonders if meeting your soulmate releases every emotion known to man into your system. “Guys,” he says, “this is Jeremy. He’s my tattoo, he’s my _soulmate_ \--”

To which Lindsay lets a low _‘ahhhhhh!!!!_ ’ escape her mouth. (Ryan can’t really comment, because her reaction is _way_ more put together than his was.) Andy and Michael respond with simultaneous ‘no way, what the fuck, that’s awesome’ constructions, and Jeremy’s boss comes over to see why he’s not collecting glasses like he should be, and then _Gavin_ stumbles over to see what all the fuss is about, and the whole evening becomes one big chaotic mess.

“I’m a lot more eloquent over text,” he murmurs in Jeremy’s ear, within the crowd of celebratory drunks.

Jeremy turns pink, and puts his number into Ryan’s phone under the name ‘Jeremy Dooley’.

Yeah, he’s younger than him, and sure, Gavin’s probably gonna try and crash all of their dates at some point, because Gavin’s a malevolent little shit. But Ryan’s pretty sure he can articulate his thoughts a lot more coherently over SMS to begin with, and with a soulmate, it’s always good to begin positively.

It could be a great foundation, after all, for Jeremy to stock his refrigerator with Diet Coke - and for Ryan to stock his own cupboards with something a little stronger.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat about Jeremwood with me on [tumblr](futureboy-ao3.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
